Not Going To Look Back
by fiveby10eighty3
Summary: George Balfour becomes the second member to leave The Riot Club. He is filled with guilt about what happened at the dinner. He sets about resolving unfinished business and having his own happy ending. He also gains an unlikely alliance with another former member and helps him get back what he has lost. All other characters belong to Laura Wade, except for a few original characters.


**Hi! I know this fic will come as a surprise since some of you have read my fics for Downton Abbey. After watching The Riot Club, however, I've wondered what happened to the rest of the characters at the end of the movie. One of the slightly minor characters in the movie became my favourite. George Balfour is that character. I've always thought that there's more to him than what was shown in the movie.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

It wasn't the easiest of decisions to make, but George Balfour's mind was made up. He was going to quit The Riot Club.

He was never able to forget Lauren Small's face the night the boys humiliated her, and of Miles'—the way he was restrained and could not stand up to protect her.

George also remembered opening his mouth and trying to say something.

But he didn't.

The words couldn't seem to get out of his mouth. Stayed on the tip of his tongue. But that night, he suddenly remembered his sister. His younger sister Melanie, pretty as a picture, and bright as a new star, and sweet as the cakes she bakes whenever they were home on hols. Nobody in the Club knew about her—not that he was ashamed that he was a caring, doting older brother, but he had to admit, most of the lads there were arses. And once they knew about his little sister, who, thankfully, was completing her A-Levels at Marlborough, safely far away from boys like Villiers, Mitropoulos and Maitland—she would be very much a target. It was easier then when he was at Marlborough with her, seeing that no one hurt her.

But now he was at Oxford, and God only knew what the boys in Melanie's year were like.

Probably, some of them would go to Oxford as well, and most probably some of them would be the Club's future recruits.

What if one of them was nice and was like Miles Richards—a nice level-headed boy, who was lulled into a false sense of security by being recruited by The Riot Club but had to—George imagined that if such a bloke had his sister for his girlfriend—well, he didn't know what he would do, to be honest. But one thing was sure—he would see to it that Melanie was protected. He had nothing against Miles, but George couldn't forget Lauren Small's face.

But how? Quitting the Club was the only answer. George sighed. He also remembered another reason.

Antonia Marchmont.

Antonia was in his year at Marlborough. She had also gone to Oxford with him—she to study Mathematics (she wanted to be a professor—or a teacher, at the very least, very much unusual considering her aristocratic upbringing) and he, PPE, and everyone in their year thought that they would be a couple. They were more than just friends—but just not officially a couple. She shared a love of dogs with him, and country living in general. Her parents lived in a neighbouring estate, so they knew each other since they were little.

George could still remember the way they had parted. Antonia found out that he had been a member of The Riot Club, so she gradually distanced herself. When he confronted her about it, he found out that her father had been a member and wasn't exactly proud of it. Lord Haverill, Antonia's father, told her that as much as possible, to stay away from a guy if he was a member of the Club. That was the only advice he gave Antonia when she got into Oxford.

He was so angry and hurt that she didn't give him a chance to prove that he was going to be different, but he understood, he finally understood why when the lads tried to take advantage of Lauren. Miles, trying to stop the boys but Villiers and Mitropoulos made sure he couldn't.

It hurt so much then that since Antonia was in the same college as him—in Magdalen, she was sure trying to avoid him. Ever since he was recruited.

Hopefully she would talk to him again once he was no longer a member.

* * *

The smell of treacle pudding distracted George from his thoughts; even more so when Melanie called him into the kitchen.

"Georgie, come have some pudding! You have a choice between custard and whipped cream in the refrigerator."

Trust Mellie to think of making his favourite treat to cheer him up. He went in and sat on one of the four chairs by the kitchen table. Their cook was on her day off, to visit her daughter and have a first look at her grandson. This allowed Mellie to have free rein on the kitchen, which was Mrs. Kerr's domain.

She had known about what happened at The Bull's Head. Melanie opened the refrigerator and took out two bowls. "Custard or whipped cream?" she asked.

"Whipped cream," George mumbled. His sister then put the bowl containing the custard back into the refrigerator.

"Are you still thinking about what happened over there?" Mellie asked. She took out a saucer from the shelf that contained the family's everyday dinner china.

"Yeah," George mumbled again. Melanie, meanwhile, was watching her older brother carefully as she sliced the pudding and put it on the saucer. She pushed the bowl towards him and gave him a spoon, which she got on the caddy in the shelf containing the everyday china.

"You eat," Melanie firmly resumed. "You haven't eaten much since the holidays and Mum and Dad are worried about you. You can tell me about it."

It was one of the things George loved about his little sister. She always had a listening ear, and was wise beyond her seventeen years.

George more than dutifully demolished his pudding, he sliced another helping and dumped another spoonful of cream. He sighed. "I just feel guilty. I could have said or done something. The poor girl, with her hands held by Ed—she looked so helpless and angry. And Miles Richards looked the same. Villiers and Mitropoulos made sure he couldn't stand."

"Look," Melanie held her older brother's hand. "The boys could have done the same thing to you. Restrained you. You said it had gone out of control. I do understand that you feel so awfully about it, and I don't blame you. But you can do something about it."

"I already have," George said quietly. "I'm quitting the club. I'm…I'm also hoping it might bring Antonia back."

"Does Dad know? I mean, he's been a member, and you know…" Melanie asked.

"Yeah. He's been supportive. I'm not exactly looking forward to facing Bellingfield and telling him I'm packing it in, but I'll get it done."

* * *

 _Two weeks later_

"Can we talk?" George asked Guy Bellingfield, who was typing his essay. They were studying at the Bodleian library, and it was quiet as a tomb, save for a few whispers and the tap-tapping of fingers on laptop keyboards.

"Sure," Bellingfield was accommodating.

Without beating around the bush, George spoke. "I'm leaving the club." It was delivered as calmly and quietly, as if he was planning to go to a shooting trip.

Bellingfield was taken by surprise. "What, mate? You too?" George observed the other boy. Bellingfield's face was a mixture of irritation, bewilderment, and confusion. "Just like that?" he asked again.

"Yeah. You heard me."

"But _why_?" If circumstances were different, George could have laughed at the new president's face. _So much for him wanting to be president. He'll have a lot on his hands._

"Let's put it this way, I've had _enough._ " George's reply was short, terse, and curt. "Goodbye, Bellend." George stuffed his things in his backpack, and left, leaving Bellingfield gaping at him with shock and outrage.

When he left the Bodleian to find something to eat, George's mind began to work overtime. His mind was a mixture of relief, giddiness, and incredulity. _I can't believe I did it._ However, he remembered hearing Guy saying, "You too?"

 _Who could it be_? It could probably be Richards. Ryle was already sent down by the holidays. Goodness only knows what happened to him since he got arrested. Leighton-Masters, was also likely, since he was worried about his career. George shook his head. His stomach was already grumbling, so he trudged down to Little Clarendon Street to go to Natural Bread Company. He loved the breads there so he made it a point to go there and buy a loaf at least once every two weeks.

When he went inside the café, he was surprised to see someone familiar.

 _Speak of the devil._

Miles Richards was sitting on a table, surrounded by books and other materials. In front of him was a plate that contained two croissants—one uneaten, one half-eaten. Beside the plate was a mug of chocolate, which was now no longer warm, let alone hot. Across the plate was a pad of paper, and a few notebooks, and some pens on top of them.

"Hello," Miles said a bit warily. George gave him a rather hesitant smile. He thought that of the two new inductees, the person in front of him was the nicer one. Ryle was a total arse. He had it coming. Miles, however lost his girlfriend. Finally George opened his mouth. "Hello." The younger boy still eyed him warily, but was still courteous. "Please sit down. Pretty soon the place will fill up. It always does, at this time of the day." George sat down, rather cautiously.

"If Bellingfield sent you here to re-recruit me, the answer is no," Richards said quietly.

"It's not what I'm here for. I'm hungry, to be honest, and I am looking to get something to eat. Furthermore, I quit."

The younger boy looked confused. George put him out of misery.

"I've also quit the club."


End file.
